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I ran this race as a low key training run for reasons previously stated. I ended up with 13.25 miles in just over 2:05, or roughly 9:30 pace. Average effort was around 80%.

Well, it was hot and humid today, just as predicted. I’d resigned myself to not racing it, although a few minutes before the race, when it was only in the mid-60s I toyed with the idea of doing an all out effort. Then I decided against it; it’s not like you can race the first 10K, then change your mind. Once you’ve exerted yourself in conditions like these you’re in it for the haul, meaning the damage is done and running slower after a fast first half will be a lot harder than if you’d jogged the whole way, which is essentially what I did for most of the “race” today.

If you enjoy running on barren, completely exposed major roadways, then this is the race for you. But if you decide to take it on in 2011, be sure to get there early! We were trapped in a sluggish, single lane of cars crawling toward parking for at least 15 minutes after getting into the park entrance. Jonathan finally gave up and bolted from the car at 7:20. Unlike me, his plan today was to race and neither of us had a clue about where the start was. It turns out the race start was a five minute stroll from where I parked. He took the long way around. We wouldn’t see each other again for another three hours.

Somehow we managed the separation and, in our own ways, both had a grand old time. Jonathan came in (he thinks) 13th overall, having managed an unofficial 1:20:03. He was, of course, unhappy with this, whereas I was astonished, considering the conditions and the fact that he hasn’t actually been training for a half (or even a full). His paces were very even. I think it was among his most successful races, but he doesn’t share this opinion.

In terms of his performance in a relative sense, one of the many quirks of this race is that obtaining “results” consists of lining up to use a machine into which you enter your bib number, which then burps out a printed receipt of your time and pace. But you have no idea how anyone else did. We assume he won the M50-59 AG, but won’t know until the award shows up (or doesn’t) in the mail eventually. Edited: Well, he won M50-54, but was beaten by a 58 year old!

There was apparently some drama at the start line. Jonathan was lined up near the front, and right before the start the race director surveyed those in front and pointed to a man who obviously didn’t belong there (very overweight) and demanded that he move back, which he did. Then he approached a woman who in his estimation also didn’t belong there (although Jonathan said he didn’t think one could necessarily have made that assumption by looking at her). The RD demanded she move back as well, but she resisted. So he ripped her tag off and disqualified her on the spot.

Jonathan said the calling out of some vs. others seemed random and inconsistent to him, as there were other people on the line who didn’t belong up there. I suppose it’s the RD’s prerogative to decide, perhaps for safety reasons, who can and can’t be in the first row. But ejecting someone seems excessive. My guess? The LI race director is just another power mad jerk.

I was way back in the middle of the pack at the start. At 8AM we started walking toward the start mats and the women behind me were exclaiming how we had “perfect weather.” That’s when I hit “Play” on my MP3 player.

This is the first race I’ve run with music and let me tell you, I understand why people do it. Jogging for 13+ miles can be really boring. I knew this already, which is why I have an MP3 player in the first place, although I’ve heretofore been a purist when it comes to mixing music with racing. But I figured if I was going to play contented midpacker for a day, I may as well go whole hog and do it with headphones jammed into my ears. For today, I chose my “Sunday Run” mix (see below). It’s what I listen to on Sundays. Easy decision.

The first few miles ticked by without incident. I distracted myself with judgmental assessments of the wide range of tattoos that surrounded me. There were lots of “tramp stamps” to be seen, but I was most impressed with one woman’s “Farm / Ancient Rome” visual pastiche along her upper back, the centerpiece of which was two pigs with (and I can’t explain this, so don’t make me try) a large Doric column emerging from their spines. The other highlight was the woman with two tattoos on her calves: a Star of David (left) and Christ on a Cross (right). Mixed marriage?

The colorful visual treats so held my attention that I was taken by surprise by the sudden appearance of the 5 mile mark, only noticing it because that was when the sun emerged from the clouds, necessitating that I move to the shady side of the street, where I ran with a few 10K race stragglers. At mile 8 we turned into a headwind and for once wind was a refreshing, cooling force rather than an obstructive, energy sapping one.

I picked up the pace then, figuring on upping effort for the remainder of the race. Even in that weather, running the last 3-4 miles at higher effort wasn’t going to kill me. Anything I can do at this point to acclimatize myself for the coming summer months is going to help. At 9:30, or around mile 9.5, the sun came out for good and it was beating down on us. I was running at around 80% at that point and started to pick things up, primarily to get this over with.

I started passing people, although other people were also picking things up, so I had lots of company. One thing I noticed was that most of the (much younger) people around me weren’t running all that hard. Meaning they weren’t really racing. I used to notice this when the pace I ran today was my race pace way back when and it used to drive me crazy. It still happens in some NYRR races, where I’m about to eject an internal organ, I’m working so hard, but I’ll sometimes be running with guys who are chatting about where they had dinner last night. But nothing like this in terms of sheer numbers. My point is that I suspect a lot of “average” runners could run much faster if they tried. I don’t know why they don’t. Maybe because it’s very uncomfortable? Yeah. I’ll bet that’s it.

At mile 11.6 I saw my first heat-related casualty, a guy who looked to be in his mid-20s, slightly overweight, flat on his back. He was surrounded by cops who hadn’t bothered to try to get him into the shade and were otherwise making no visible effort to get him cooler. I listened for sirens, but heard none. Then at 11.75 miles I spotted Guy in His 20s #2. This time the cops were raising his feet (he was passed out cold), but, again, no ambulance.

The final straw was a man I saw at the 13 mile mark, clearly in big trouble. He was falling, then getting up, then falling again. The spectators seemed to find this funny, like he was some sort of trained bear. I found it alarming, but lucked upon a volunteer about a hundred feet along, around a curve. We had the following exchange, which would have been comical had it not been so frustrating:

Me: “There’s a runner down at the 13 mile mark. You should call for medical help.”

Him: “Where?”

Me: “The 13 mile mark.”

Him: “Way back there?”

Me: “No, a hundred or so feet back, just around the curve.”

Him: “Oh. I thought you meant mile 13 of the marathon.”

Me: [Confused look] “They’re the same finish.”

Him: [Dashes off]

The LI event uses some sort of newfangled tracking system — an RFID strip is attached to the back of your bib rather than to your shoe. A little ways before the finish I spotted a trash can in which to dispose of the transmitter that would indelibly record my finishing time were it to pass over the finish mat. Still, I was surprised to hear my name called as I neared the finish — and pronounced correctly yet again (the planets must be in alignment) — so that was weird. I’m hoping they were just looking up bib numbers as we came in, as I don’t want my cruddy finish time recorded. Because I’m obsessive that way.

Edited: Dammit. They managed to record my time somehow. I have no idea how that happened. Mystery solved: there are two strips on the back of each bib.

I’m a little tired now, but no more so than I’d be after any hot midlength run. For once I did the smart thing. For once.

Some news stories (and a blog report) from various races today. It wasn’t pretty out there today:

7 Responses

came here fr another site. posting only b/c of some related comments i made there (and seems relevant). first, tho, you’re clearly very talented and work very hard to be where you are. wrt to this event, tho- you stated that you did it as a training run b/c of the conditions….i’d be willing to bet a lot of people slowed down for that reason, too. so, they may well have seemed like they weren’t ‘giving it their all’ b/c well, they weren’t, given the temps. re faster folks chatting about their dinner plans in other events…perhaps they were running those events as tempos or training runs for a focus race just as you may have been for this one? and finally…you mentioned a friend as doing this race w/o the ideal training for it (for him), but yet being disappointed w/his time (and, it is a very impressive time, notwithstanding). lol, but wish i were in his shoes!

I missed that whole drama at the start. We were near the front and there was some weirdness of them moving us all over to the right side, but I didn’t see the other. The fact that there was no corrals or seeding at all was a little annoying.

A 1:20 out there in that heat is super impressive. Big congrats to Jonathan.

And, I’m glad that you survived the heat. It was a good day not to be racing all out.

We had an extended discussion about the slower runners too as we were waiting in our car for them to pass (this was probably 4.5 hours after the start and they were still coming strong across mile 20?). I guess, like you were saying, I just don’t get why people don’t try harder. I think most (almost all) of those people could run significantly faster if they tried, but they don’t. And, at that point, is it still a sport or merely an activity?

Hahaha, it even says “Long Island” in the title. I’m an idiot. And when I read your response comment before, I thought state like mental state, not geographic state. Again, I’m an idiot… Or, yeah, the heat fried my brain.